


When There Is No Edge

by SenjuMizusaya



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, BAMFs, Canon-Typical Violence, Escapism, F/M, Family Issues, Female Luke, Female Luke Skywalker, Genderswap, Humor, Imperial Luke Skywalker, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, Rebellion, Rebels, Running Away, Sith Empire, Smuggler Han Solo, an attempt at it at least sometimes, and he's kind of a pirate because let's face it, he's not exactly legal, until she decides not to be and runs off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 00:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14367042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjuMizusaya/pseuds/SenjuMizusaya
Summary: (Fem!Luke) Luke Skywalker was discovered at the unassuming age of eight by a platoon of Imperial scouts investigating under Darth Vader's orders, and consequently brought to the heart of the Empire for an upbringing she'd never have dreamed about. However, some things never change and the desire to bring light and freedom to the Empire prevails. Even at the cost of overthrowing it.(Or, in which the outcome is the same but the events occuring are different; Luke Skywalker becomes the rebel symbol with the Force thrumming, the two droids are as useful as they cause trouble, Han is an ambiguous smuggler with a smirk too sharp and Leia has to take care of her ragtag team since she's the only responsible one.)





	When There Is No Edge

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Wars!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a galaxy far, far away, Luke is hopeful and innocent enough not to understand that her family has been, and is being, threatened while the crisply uniformed officer is telling her it's time to meet her apparently not-so-dead father.  
> Meanwhile, the officer is pretending not to die of heatstroke in his pressed clothing, at least in Luke's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not crack. It may seem like it, at least summary-wise, but it's not. I promise. (At least I don't think it is, because hey, who am I to judge?)  
> Either way, I'm not even going to attempt to excuse my obsession with genderbander fics by now, because clearly I'm a lost cause^^  
> A side note; I don't think Owen knew Darth Vader was Luke's father, but I think he did know the father was a Jedi turned rogue. 
> 
> A chapter starring a ruthlessly smooth officer under strict orders not to alarm Luke, a blackmailed Beru and Owen, and a young Skywalker who can't make heads or tails of her feelings.

Tatooine was a dry, windy place with dual suns whose rays blistered sensitive skin and baked the sandy earth beneath their merciless, scorching light as if they were hired ovens. As warm as the days were -lacking shade as the planet was made up of golden dunes slanting up and down in rolling hills of grainy sand with occasional spikes of mountainy rocks standing proud in huddled clusters, even more inhabitable than the deserts- the nights were all the colder and the winds turned from blistering to nipping as they made the sand sung cold times in the darkest hours of the night.

Despite the inhospitable climate, Luke loved the place. 

She loved uncle Owen and aunt Beru, the warmth of the earth seeping into her core, the gritty feel of sand between her toes, the special marinade she'd get with potatoes, the freshness of salad and sweet sourness of the berries Beru has painstakingly grown in the sun next to the water tank, the bitterness of the juice she'd get to drink on special days, the sheepish excitement when Beru would sew a new tunic for her, the horribly wild elation that would tingle in her veins when Owen would take her flying in the old speeder, teach her what he knew about piloting and mechanics. 

What she didn't like was abrupt change in directions she didn't feel comfortable with. 

She had stepped into the kitchen with hopes for snagging a handful of bitter nuts and a glass of water, the pale beige material of her shirt smudged and wrinkled at the hems after digging through the herb garden. One of the pant legs was rolled up messily above her calf, a wrinkled bunching of pale gray material. While stark white ( _because there was a difference between white and stark white,_ Beru had said) was a color too blinding for the climate, pale colors to thin, airy clothing were all the more popular to protect oneself from heat. She almost felt a little self-conscious, a little like the small girl who lived a few miles away who'd blush and shy away at the slightest things, because at the wooden table sat a man nearing his later thirties whose eyes were the deepest green she had ever seen. Unlike her own roughhewn appearance, Beru's loose clothes and Owen's paternally simplistic looks, the man was clad in a neatly pressed uniform of dark khaki and royal navy, his hickory hair neatly combed with a charming curl to it. Luke thought it must be awfully warm for him, especially those shiny black boots had to bathe his feet in sweat. Yet, his expression betrayed no discomfort. She supposed it was much cooler inside than beneath the unforgiving midday sun. At the entrance to the garden and the door to the hall there stood one white-clad, masked guard each. Luke figured those were the storm troupers she had heard of at school. Her classmate and close friend Biggs had claimed he hated them, hated the Empire; the teacher had been quick to shush him since that was apparently not allowed to be said. 

They seemed to have been talking for a while, in a deep discussion led by the regal man which was instantly smothered when she stepped inside. 

"Ah, you must be young Luca Skywalker," the officer spoke up, his voice like smooth stones, offering the barest twitch of the lips as a smile. "We were just talking about you." 

The short girl looked at him for a moment, suddenly very aware of the dark blonde of her hair being in a disarray, especially in comparison to his smoothly combed style. She said; "It's Luke, just Luke." 

The officer in the crisp uniform flashed another distant, barely-there smile, the type that was more a pull of muscles than a display of sincerity. "I have come to take you home." 

"I am home," she replied after a few heartbeats of confused silence. She glanced at Owen and Beru, both seated at the table and finding their intertwined hands very interesting. Luke gnawed at the inside of her cheek, shifting where she stood next to the kitchen table. She doubted she'd be able to sneak some nuts away, now. 

"No," said the officer, blunt in his calm, bland tone but carrying a sufficient enough hint of authority to command. "Your father is most important for the Empire, and as such it's only fit you come home to live where you belong." 

"I-" she started, but the continuation of words frazzled halfway and left broken fragments clogging her throat in its wake. She didn't know too much of the Empire, as Tatooine was remote and just a little isolated, even for being at the Outer Rim Territories, a place with some internal struggles in the form of people going missing and sold at slave auctions and the occasional band of misfits causing trouble and casualties at the roads, never major enough for the Empire to meddle. The only places there were active troops stationed permanently was in rowdy Mos Eisley's, a bustling Spaceport and one of the two one major cities in the planet, and its safer counterpart Mos Espa, the defacto capital that, while criminal enough with and underhanded black market, was far less violent. She did know it was a vast place, with a rich heart named Coruscant where houses reached in glassy, shining symmetric structures towards the sky and everything went in top speed, top quality, top-of-the-tops. She hadn't known her father was there. 

She hadn't even known he was _alive_. That- that really stung, an attack of accusing wasps going needle-first on offense. 

It also made something inside her flutter with white-hot hope. For years she had hoped her father (not dead, never dead, no matter what Owen and Beru gently insinuated) would one day return from his travels with magnificent stories and tearful apologies and so, so much more. She loved her aunt and uncle, but she almost loved the idea of her father more, especially since her mother had lost her life in childbirth. And now, now she apparently had one who hadn't even come here himself. 

Luke forgave him that one; maybe he was so important he was always working, and thus sent that officer in his stead. She desperately wanted to believe that.

"Why didn't anybody tell me before?" She asked quickly, almost eager, almost apprehensive, gritty fingers fisting the thin material of her pale shirt. 

The officer smiled again, that dull and colorless curl of the lips with eyes still like frozen grass. He glanced at Beru and Owen with a slight emotion crinkling his icy pools, though she couldn't decipher it. Her family in question were still looking at their hands, lap, wall, the officer, anywhere but her. "There seemed to have been a slight miscommunication."

For a moment the formal smile curved a little wider, a little sharper, and a primal instinct-like voice whispered to Luke that it almost seemed like a threat. It made something inside her curdle, a small speck among her confusion and hesitant joy. 

She desperately wished they'd look at her, acknowledge her, tell her whose fault it had been, inform her of _everything_. They didn't. She wasn't sure if she felt betrayed or not. Had they known? If they had, why hadn't they told her, why why why _why_? How had she been found after all these years? Why now? 

But the questions and nagging blame were washed to the depths of the seas of distant planets by the light, fluttering feeling a truce of relief and teary happiness singing beneath her skin. 

"Dad's alive?"

"Very much so," confirmed the brunette officer, dry as a bone. When a gust of hot wind blew into their underground room from the window leading to their ravine-styled garden, not a single dark hair escaped his sleek, slightly curling style. Luke figured he must've used some kind of gel, at least on the sides. 

Her own messy mop of tresses (bleached from mousy brown-blond to gold by the incessant sun) was only tousled further, the slight wave to it only making it more obvious. 

For a moment, she was almost drowning in a wave of burning yearning, to say _yes yes yes yes I want to see him, take me to him_. Luke was reckless to the core, an ingrained trait molded into something harrowing together with her stubbornness and brash nature, but shock had rendered a numb wariness she hadn't known she possessed to seep to the surface. In the end, she uttered; "I can come back to Tatooine, right? Like, visits, and I can see aunt and uncle, and-"

And she was scared, part of her, a miniature crevice deep inside, was so very scared; what if her father didn't like her, what if she didn't like her father, how important was he, would she be able to go back? All of which was shadowed by the slow dislike of the Empire that had twisted, snakelike, into her life the more she heard and the more she discerned details in the halfhearted propaganda occasionally attempted in waves if there was a commotion somewhere. Lately it tended to be handled by force and fear, however, a creeping but sure change. 

Biggs Darklighter had said he hated them. Luke Skywalker had loudly vocalized her agreement. 

But- her father- _her_ dad, her _dad_ \- he couldn't be evil, not really, he was her father. He had cared enough to want her with him, to search for her even though there had been, apparently, a _slight miscommunication_ about either whereabouts or general existence. She was a bit sour about that one. 

"I'm sure you'll be able to see your aunt and uncle, sometime once you have properly settled, although they regrettably cannot accompany you," assured the officer flatly without a twitch, glancing at Beru and Owen. Both were quick to look up with with expressions a caricature of their usual ones, something vaguely comforting and stiff about their demeanor. Beru was the one who spoke, gentle but firm; "You will always be welcome back here, _always_." 

"It's a pity you'll go, of course, we'll miss you very much," Owen started with a barely-visible flicker of the gaze to where the officer was sitting in a casually prim manner at their table, watching the exchange like a hawk. "But we'd never stop you from your- _happiness_ \- of course it's your right to meet your- _father_ \- and we wish you all the luck in the galaxy if you'd decide to go. But in the end, remember that you can always consider this your home." 

Luke thought it sounded awfully much like a rehearsed goodbye, more so with their faint, twitchy smiles, as though she had already decided to go and wouldn't see them again for years, maybe never. 

"That's decided, then," spoke the lean man and flashed his brief, small, dull smile as he stood up. He was taller than Owen, she realized absently, but not as tall as Clone Storm Trooper. The brunt of her focus was, however, on her lack of actual say. The sentence lit the match so familiar with the kerosene anger easily igniting in her veins. 

"I didn't say anything," she protested through narrowed eyes flashing electric blue, fueled by confusion and fear as well as shock still ringing in the back of her head, not to mention her natural proneness to anger. 

"So you'd rather stay here forever?" Countered the picture-perfect officer, tilting his head to the side to face her better. The words struck her like a whiplash. Maybe they shouldn't have. Either way it made her seethe with indignation. 

"I didn't say that either," she argued right back, but knew she had lost that one. 

"Good," the brunette told her blandly, standing up with graceful finality which, as she begrudgingly expected, didn't crease his immaculate uniform at all. She glowered at his finely polished boots. "We will be her at six tomorrow morning sharp. Be ready, we head for Coruscant right after departure." 

"Wha-" she started, something inside uncoiling, but managed to cage further words with great difficulty by grinding her teeth and glaring at the nuts. The officer didn't bide her caretakers farewell and barely glanced at her as he walked away, the two mute Storm Troopers marching after.

Luke threw a nut at the door the second it closed behind him and his clicking heels. 

* * *

She had very little to pack. Most of all she wanted to take Beru and Owen with her, and maybe Biggs, too, but they didn't fit into her duffel bag. She wouldn't be able to sneak them with her her, not even Biggs who was half a head shorter than her. 

In the end she settled for the better half of her wardrobe, which consisted of a less worn version of her worse half, and the small wooden box of odd trinkets she had amassed over the last few years. It was an ornate, lacquered thing of dark wood she had been given for her fifth birthday, bought from the buzzing streets of Mos Espa by Owen when heading there to meet an old friend passing by. As much as she valued the box of ambiguous origins, the inside was all the more valuable to her. A trio of deep amber stones she had found when passing through the Beggar's Canyon together with Biggs on the back of his father's podracer, said man usually telling her about how one wire was attached to the circuit and how a button affected the signals. An old necklace with simple beads of deep violet and clashing turquoise hanging from its weathered cord. There was a rudimentary, oversized comlink the width of her palm she had constructed with the help of that helpful teacher at school who was always so willing to be impressed by her eye for mechanics. A small folder with photos of herself, her aunt and uncle, herself with her aunt and uncle, class pictures, herself and Biggs, Biggs, herself with droids, various droids and bots, all of it clumsily glued into the empty pages. A small pile of cutouts from magazines of different ships and speeders, their pros and cons, basic blueprints, explanatory files. The neat walkie-talkie she and Biggs and fiddled with, prodded at, attempted to improve, repaired with singed fingers until its signal could only be intercepted by said best friend's counterpart without even showing up on any radar, a result as accidental as it proved handy. A small projector the size of her fist she had stolen from the school library, although it could only project an assortment of older battle stations and ships from the past Republic in hologram. A small box playing an old tune she associated with childhood memories of light and fuzzy warmth as well as the telltale rushing of a pitcher being filled. A kindergarten teacher's lost ring Luke had found a year ago, but when looking to return the band of silver studded with red she found the old lady had passed away. 

She nestled the clumsy box into the large duffel bag, the sharp edges covered by the various articles of clothing stuffed around, proceeding to empty her corner of the bathroom into a small, faded-blue bag; toothbrush and toothpaste, a simple comb, a soap smelling strongly of mint and oranges, a stringy set of hair ties. 

Luke had yet to speak to Beru and Owen, the former in the kitchen and the latter repairing a droid not in actual need of reparations. 

There was nothing more to pack. Her bag was miserably small, it felt odd to know she had fit her entire life into that. Only- no- _no_ , not her entire life. Not Biggs, not her aunt and uncle, not the fiery evening sun, not her feelings and thoughts, her dreams and hopes. 

She didn't know whether to feel excited, nervous or scared. 

She _did_ know that when the officer had said Beru and Owen weren't coming with her, he had sounded anything but regrettable.

Luke didn't like him. 

( _Her dad was alive alive alive alive alive, he existed, how when why why why, how could it be, when did he get to know, whose fault was it what was the miscommunication_ -) 

But he did come and get her. 

Luke wasn't sure what she felt. Maybe love, for her father as a person or the idea of a father she had no idea, perhaps even fear more than apprehension, maybe spite borne out of her flammable anger. There was also a surge of something else, akin to homesickness although she had yet to leave, something drenching and brittle. She didn't know. She wasn't sure what she felt anymore, it was a whirlwind of emotion but still as a hovering day at the same time, ragged at the edges yet so very full and complete. Every feeling, every sensation spazzingly wandering about her body like insects on a sugar high, contradicted and twisted and coiled, uncoiled, intertwined, separated, until it was a nest of serpents curling around each other in loops until what she perceived to be the body didn't necessarily belong to the head she had assumed it to be attached to.

The blonde Skywalker had never been so caught up in an internal mess before. 

She didn't like it. 

Clambering atop the rounded windowsill facing the round garden, Luke wrapped tanned arms around her legs and peered outside, startling blue framed by dark brown lashes, almost blinded where the sinking twin suns were shading the sky in arrays of deep amber with brushes of vibrant red rimming the darkly outlined sandy horizon, almost bruising violet at the other end to which shadows grasped as if fleeing from the light and darkness was creeping further up the skies. A dry breeze ruffled her honey locks into further fluff and tangles, carrying the scent of dusty rocks from the mountain range southeast with an underlying smell of spices from the kitchen, but she didn't close her half-opened window. Slanting a glance down to the light shed through the kitchen door opposite her own side of the garden, she sighed. 

She didn't feel very hungry. Vaguely, she was aware the smell indicated her favorite meal was being prepared -beets marinated in honey and herbs with spiced eopie meat wrapped in dough- but it didn't induce a single grumble from her stomach. She felt like taking a thorough soak in whatever maelstrom of emotions were picking up inside. 

Luke stared at everything, the rounded corners, the depth of the stony garden, the sea of sand, the uneven spots of rocky hills towards the southeast, the dual suns of which the first was brushing against the horizon in cascades of dark peach and red, the overlapping smells, the familiarity of every nook and cranny, the gentle hymn of sounds reverberating. The pale walls of her room, spartan furnishing, odd pieces of metal to be screwed into one piece scattered around and hidden beneath her bed, the low roof with the dotting of brown dots from when she had attempted to repaint her wardrobe but gotten annoyed and thrown the brush upwards in a spray of paint. She was going to miss it all. 

Incredibly so. 

And she almost cried. 

Almost. 

Excitement and nervous giddiness still streaked her insides too strongly. 

She wondered what her father would look like. What he'd be like. What he'd think of her. What he knew of her mother. 

She also wondered what the Empire was like. She ( _curseddespisedfeared_ ) didn't like it, hadn't since starting to understand what was going on and had a quasi-rebellious teacher discussing vaguely philosophical topics with six year olds with the intent to dredge up ethics and educate them about flawed systems. 

It felt as though her thoughts ran on repeat. 

Beru's voice cut through the cooling air; "Dinner time!" 

Shutting the windowsill to keep the frigid night at bay, she hopped down with a neat leap avoiding her desk perched next to the window. Enjoying the evening was the least she could do. 

* * *

True to his word, the officer stood at the door at six in the morning, sharp. Expectedly, not a strand of his dark brown hair was out of place, not a crease marred his uniform and his boots shone as if freshly polished despite the sandy environment. His two Storm Troopers stood like statues behind him. 

Luke held the duffel bag closer, hands tense around the pale roughness of the stiff material, knuckles white.  

Behind her, Beru and Owen stared with unreadable eyes and fixed smiles cramping on their faces. She had hugged them more than she had ever done in her entire life. Maybe it was for the best she didn't smuggle Biggs with her. He would hate the Empire more than her swath of curdling scathe. He was like that. It almost made her smile, or perhaps threaten a miserable sniff to surface, but in the end she did neither. 

"Morning," Luke mumbled, awkward to boot and more than a little wary. Words had frozen solid and unshakable in her mind since an hour ago. Thoughts ran clear but she had nothing to say. Or, on the contrary, maybe she had everything to say. And she was starting to grow so very tired of her inner conflict. At least she was a bit of a morning person. "How long's the trip?" 

"No longer than a few days," replied the officer in his rich accent, not quite Coruscanti but certainly from a place nearby, perhaps a neighboring system. 

She wondered exactly how long a few days was. She didn't feel like asking. 

Behind them, she could glimpse a large vehicle too robust to be a speeder gleaming in the early sunlight driving away the cold, the Imperial insignia carefully branded onto its side and room enough for at least four additional passengers. She figured the space ship was parked either in Mos Espa or the safer, though more juvenile and a hangout spot for those in their later teens, Bestine. Mos Eisley, though just as large, had too large a population not officially recognized or not legal to be a place for Imperialists to park their ship in good trust of not having it picked apart despite the money payed. 

It felt odd that just a few days ago, she and Biggs had been dreaming about getting away from Tatooine. It just wasn't supposed to happen like this. 

"Can I sit at the front?" Luke asked instead, glancing at the place next to the driver's seat. She hoped the drive would be fast and technical. Luke may not be sure what to make of the situation, but she did know she wanted first row for a sleek, top-notch speeder handled by a classy officer. 

The officer in question offered his distant, emotion-vacuumed smile for a moment before nodding acquiescently. 

One of the Troopers took the bag from her, no questions asked nor command from the officer. Maybe it was standard to not let the escort (prisoner in other cases) carry his or her own things. Maybe he wasn't a Clone after all. She wasn't certain. A _thank you_ burned on the tip of her tongue, but seemed to stick and slug back like so many other things had done since last afternoon. The officer glanced down at her, already half turned to the large hovercraft with his hands clasped behind his straight back. 

"You may say goodbye," he told her, something razor tiptoeing across the corner of his mouth, then turned on his heels and marched towards the faintly grav-car modeled podracer. She paused for a moment to watch him leave her to her privacy and then almost flew back to the doorstep where Beru and Owen had watched with glassy eyes and nervous smiles trembling at the edges. 

Her aunt's arms wound around her shoulders first, pressing Luke's tanned face into the soft swell of her bust and holding her so very tight. "No matter what," she started, and there were too many ways to finish the sentence that there was no proper coherence in her following words. "We'll always love you, this'll always be your home, you can always come back -always, no matter what -don't forget -we did this to protect you -no, we did because- he, the officer, the Empire, they-" her breath stuttered in her throat, unable to convey something that made little shards of ice in Luke's blood tingle with that same wariness that her philosophical teacher and vocal Biggs had instilled. "Just be safe." 

"Always am," Luke replied with a muffed sigh, fingers cramping as they curled into the material of her aunt's shirt where she hugged her back. She tried not to think about the times she persuaded Owen to let her drive his smaller, older speeded and almost crashed it multiple times since she was far too young and inexperienced, tried not to remember climbing the school building with Biggs. 

But they were such fond memories. 

She had barely let go of Beru before Owen swept her into a rare hug of his own, aged arms a cloak around her and white beard tickling the crown of her head. "I met your father once," he confessed against her hair, a secret whisper only for her own ears. "He was searching for his mother, who had been abducted. The man who came back to us wasn't the same person who had left. People change, always and constant, some for the better and others for the worse. Luca, whatever may happen, whatever changes may be thrown in your direction, this will always be your home." 

Part of Luke found their always-your-home phrase awfully repetitive, but another voice gnawed at her at the foreboding preaching and chanting. "Okay." She buried her face into the beige material of his clothes, and for a moment she felt herself being thrown into a hurricane of memories of her on a speeder, him taking her to the market, them buying droids, Beru teaching her how to ace at handball. "What's happening- I mean- what is actually happening- before I came into the room, what were you- the officer, what were you talking about- why does..." 

"Peace, Luke," said Owen instead, and for a moment he smiled, a watery thing as distant as a memory of a dream long gone. "In moments where troubles seem to great to overcome, find peace. You'll need it in the turbulent Empire." 

It sounded like something the local oddity, Ben Kenobi, would say. He was always so keen on telling her about peace and tranquility. She was probably going to miss him, too. 

"Are you scared?" She blurted out, taking a step back to stare up at both of them. She was willing to bet she had dug into a chip in their armor, dug her nails into a crack. Behind her, the humming purr of the engine kicked into life. Any conversation between them was certainly smothered before it could reach any other ears outside the trio. "What's the Empire like?" 

Beru rested a tender gaze in her for a moment, and for the first time Luke noticed streaks of gray within the short mop of brown. "It a vast place, filled with a great variety of people and cultures. I'm certain you will- find something worthwhile- eventually." 

The young Skywalker pretended not to notice the nervous flicker to the hawklike officer looming in the background. It felt as if the moment of privacy had ended after her question about the nature of the place she'd live in the heart of. 

"Bye," she managed through a clenched jaw, worrying her chapped bottom lip between teeth as something choking tingled along her spine. "I'll miss you, but- I'll be back, I promise." 

Beru smiled, too delicately soft to be entirely heartfelt, all the while the officer's sharp, dead gaze bore into her back like a watchful lion guarding his prey. Luke felt put off by it. 

She hugged them again, Beru first who imparted; "Don't get into too much trouble." 

Owen's words were; "Good luck, little one. You're quick witted, gutsy and a fine pilot in making."

"I-" Luke started, blinking away a tear brimming rebelliously in one eye, but didn't get to finish.

"It's time to leave, get in here." Although he had raised his voice a notch, it still sounded monotone. 

She took a deep breath and turned away towards the hovercraft, trying to shake the feeling it'd be a long while before she'd get to see the Lars Farm again. 

The seats were leathery and practical, with a simple buckle to strap over and a console she had no idea could fit into a podracer, upgraded Empire-style or not. The brunette officer, whom she still didn't know the name of, didn't say a thing before flicking a small lever next to the u-shaped steering wheel, presumably the safety, and with a press of the heel against the pedal, the hovercraft set off. 

She failed to completely understand that she was _actually_ leaving. It still felt so very unreal. 

Luke had been right; his skills were not inconsiderable. Speeding along the dunes and leaving the Lars Farm as a dot in the distance, the style was smooth and controlled, and while quick, too, she didn't doubt there were additional levels of speed. She felt like reaching out and try driving it herself. He probably wouldn't hear a word of it, however, and that was not only because of the whistling wind pulling at her floppy clothes and windswept hair. A smile flirted with the corners of pale lips, and for a moment, Luke felt only the happier side of herself. This was where she belonged, no matter what happened, this would always be her second home. 

The best thing about piloting and co-traveling was that not only was it a movable home, but also versatile. Ships and hovercrafts could be found almost anywhere. 

"What's dad like?" She asked once the rocky canyons and cliffs of the mountainous hills were looming in front of them like blunt teeth and fangs a shade darker than the golden-beige sand. Blue pools snapped to the aloof officer for a split-second, a brush away from distrustful. "If you've ever met him, that is." 

The brunette man didn't take his impossibly green gaze of the smoother surface qualifying as road. "I have," he spoke and Luke almost thought he sounded hesitant, as if unsure of what exactly to say. "He has a strong presence, powerful in both mind and body. An- inspiring leader." 

There, a chink in the icy armor. Inspiring? The blonde Skywalker stared at the cliff sides opening into the rough canyon serving as road. They were heading towards Mos Espa. She sucked on the inside of her cheek; "And as a person?" 

This time the officer had solidified his defenses, scrubbed it with soap to make it slippery and slapped on cement to fill the cracks. "A stubborn character, strong willed and a little temperamental at times. I believe he'd go to great lengths to ensure you live and are safe."

A pout downturned her mouth, a crease at the left corner, brows knitting. "But more than that, not as a soldier or leader, as a-"  _Dad_. "Just more than that." 

"I didn't meet him for that long," replied the officer, curt and simple. On either side, the ravine's walls stood tall and proud as they blocked the sun. "I'm afraid I didn't get many other impressions." 

Luke didn't think he seemed afraid of not having gotten more impressions. She bit back a smart retort with a scowl as she stared at the blurring landscape flashing by, a painting of browns and beiges with swaths of shadows and gold. Her fingers itched to drive, a deliberate tingle like Salient-ants marching through her veins. 

The suns assaulted them head on again as soon as the cool shade offered by the dry pass was left behind. They stood higher and brighter in the sky then before, twin lights impossible to look at as they shone with deadly heat in the azure skies. There wasn't single cloud, though that was to have been expected. Atop a plateau of hardened sand solidified by rocks stapled by manpower from an age long gone, rounded houses with roofs shaped like cupolas to provide an additional floor. Softly arched windows were shut either by wooden day-binders or flowy curtains dancing in the mild, sandy breeze in colors ranging from blinding snowy white to soft peach or a daring bright purple. From the route they'd be taking, the first neighborhoods to greet them would be the richer residential areas, skirting by the edges of what was an equivalent of a central business district, finally arriving at the space port charging horrendous prices but hiring talented thugs and mercenaries to guard to place. 

From the dune they were currently zooming across, Luke had perfect view on the large parking lot far down the parallel hill. It didn't take her long to sort out the ship with the Imperial insignia, the most streamlined out and by far the largest, although the cargo ship going to the nearby systems could almost match in size. It was by no means a Star Destroyer, like the ones she had seen on the HoloNet or read about in the book with accompanying holo-projector she had borrowed from the library without the intent to ever give it back, but it was certainly no little one-man ship either. 

"Is the ship leaving as soon as we get there?" 

"No, the repairs will be finished within the hour. I expect you know how to stay put," his tone was flat and dry, and weren't it for his frozen eyes she'd have thought it had been the revelation of a humorous streak. Instead she nodded and stared at the funnily shaped city they were speeding towards. She didn't think the officer could read her expression; barring times of utmost joy or anguish, she only ever quipped smiles, pouts, grins and frowns of equally mellow nature, nothing too much, often looking perpetually thoughtful or distant. Biggs had told her, _I know you feel tons of stuff, and probably thinking lots too, 'cos you're kinda weird, but you're kinda bad at expressing yourself unless you want to_. He hadn't seen her cry her eyes out like she had only ever done when accidentally wiring a droid to destroy another one, her favorite one, so she supposed he still believed she was always hard to get a read on. It wasn't entirely intentional, and certainly not a conscious choice, more a side effect of being a little awkward at times. 

"Oh, okay."

Her walkie-talkie burned in the buttoned pocket of her pale cider-shaded shirt. 

Biggs didn't live too far away, between here and Mos Entha, a smaller but modern town thriving beneath the shadow of the protective mountain peak standing proud beside. She could call him, make him come for a proper goodbye to make up for the odd, jittery message she had left him last night. For some reason she doubted it'd please the officer, but then again, she didn't think many things would please him. 

"What's your name?" 

This time he spared her his special, muscle-twitch, insincere smile for a total of three seconds. "Jarjov Holsay. Captain Holsay of the Imperial Navy, stationed in the Tapani Sector." 

Luke blinked away a stray sand irritating her eye. "Jarjov," she tasted the name, didn't know if she liked the decisive syllables,  _did_ know he would've preferred Captain Holsay. "The Tapani Sector's pretty far away, that's in the Colonies, almost in the Core Worlds." 

 _But not the Deep Core._ She didn't say it, waiting for any reactions, wiring replies and fitting herself with sentences as waves curiosity draw higher up her shores. Jarjov didn't even glance at her, though she was certain he didn't need to stay too focused on the straight quasi-road that was more of a flat stretch of sand than anything. When she got no reply, she continued; "What was it like? Was it green? Were there waterfalls? What were the people like?" 

"That would depend on the world. And yes, there were waterfalls on some, both great and small," he indulged her, and she tried to imagine a place with so much water it could flow freely through the world in wild rivers and gentle streams, bring life and lushness to the planet. "In one place there were trees so tall and wide, twelve men were needed to circle one." 

"That's- pretty big. Was the tree old? Or just really fast-growing? And- tall people, or short-armed ones?" She asked as they sped by the first houses, hovercraft slowing down as the first control came into view. 

"Both old and of nature to grow fast," he said, paused for a moment, not quite contemplative. "That would depend on what you're comparing with, of course."

Luke wasn't whether he referred to the men in question or the tree's prodigal growth, but didn't get to ask before he eased the glorified podracer into a still hover to show his Imperial ID, easily ushered along by the common soldiers without any questions asked. 

"And most worlds really do have only one sun?" She checked, just to be certain, though she couldn't say for sure if she'd take his word, either. 

"Yes." 

"And only one moon, like Tatooine?" 

"No, most have more."

"And," she started, purposely heedless of his lacking responses, "you said the ship was being repaired. Was there any trouble? Was there a fight? Was it pirates, rebels?" 

"An astroid belt," he replied, a shade away from unwilling. "A cruiser had sent a signal for help, it turned out it was a false alarm and a trap." 

"Rebels?" She insisted, an educated guess since they were the only ones with enough support and technology great enough to fake Imperial signals and elaborate traps that could be covered up as accidents. She almost smiled, successfully smothering it. 

"Most likely," replied the officer, and suddenly there was an additional layer of frozen soap on his defenses, more than that, even, as something a little too sharp curled his teeth into the almost-but-not-quite colorless smile. "But no worries, Luca, you will be safely delivered to Coruscant and no harm shall befall you. Those who try won't worry about future harm to themselves, from that point on, indefinitely." 

Luke didn't think she wanted Biggs to be within the same city as Jarjov Holsay, the walkie-talkie suddenly a lot less inviting. Perhaps it was broken-upgraded enough to work from one planet to the other. She uttered, more force of habit than anything else; "It's Luke, just Luke." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm, I had planned on adding Obi-Wan at the end, but then this chapter would've become endless. So, expect him in the beginning of the next chapter, I think. Either way, currently Luke is an average girl with age-typically awkwardness and naivety, as well as an obsession with flying. I don't think I was too far off from girl!kid!Luke?  
> I'm not sure....  
> Either way, take care!


End file.
